


The Desert Prince: A Fable

by Lobelia321



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobelia321/pseuds/Lobelia321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando is ensnared by the evil Desert Prince and must confront his own dark secrets. But maybe it is really the evil Desert Prince who is ensnared by Orlando...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

~~~

**Prologue**

Lo and behold the Desert Prince.

He is the moon at night and the sun by day. The morning star lives on his right cheek, and the evening star lives on his left cheek. He is as mighty as the thunder clouds on the horizons that loom but never arrive. He gives succour as do the rains that come once every five years. He is as strong as the dromedary that rides the desert dunes, and as tough as the prickly cactus that survives in the sandy crevices. He is the date fruit, hard on the outside but sweet and juicy on the inside. He is the pomegranate, maidens' delight, and the crystal spring, life-giver. He stands proud, like the camel's prick. He is tireless, like the goat in rut. His lips are twin nutmegs; his neck is an alabaster column; his arms are sandalwood spears; his legs are palm trunks, true and straight; his cock is a silver scimitar; his balls are olives of gold.

Behold the Desert Prince and bow down to his glory.

But do not dare to cross him because his anger is as swift as it is righteous. His bite is as deadly as the scorpion's sting. His fist crushes as do the avalanches of rock on Mount Ararat.

But most of all, beware beware beware the Prince's Eye.

For his Eye is as evil as the desert snake's. Once it has fixed you in its merciless sights, it will fell you as surely as the poisoned arrow pierces the infidel's heart.

Oh, beware the Prince's Eye!

 


	2. Fascicle the First

**Fascicle the First**

We rode into the citadel early in the evening, just at the hour of sunset. So it was not until the following day that I first beheld the Desert Prince, my doom, my destiny.

I was on my mule, and next to me rode my beloved companion, my Sean ben Bean. We rode through the gates of the citadel, with our bundles of cloth piled high on our mules and our merchants' cloaks stiff with dust. As we passed under the lofty gate and obtained passes from the guards, I glanced over at my friend and was filled with love for him. There had not been a moment of my life in which I had not known him. For I am an orphan and Sean ben Bean brought me up as his brother.

But we were more than brothers. So much more.

The last rays of sun were painting the towers of the fortress gold as we rode through the gate and the lanes of the citadel. All behind us was the empty blue expanse of the dusky desert, and before us the unknown splendour of the Prince's castle. I did not know what would await within. I was young, my heart was quick in my throat, and I gazed around me in wonder.

We dismounted. We gave up our mules to stable boys to water and unburden. We were shown to our lodgings, and they were more magnificent than any rooms I had ever stayed in. Kelims adorned the smooth clay walls, soft rugs lay scattered about the floor, and where there weren't rugs, there were cool azure-patterned tiles.

I looked at my beloved friend, my Sean ben Bean, and smiled. And he looked at me and clasped my hand to his bosom. But his brow was clouded and there was a darkness in his clear green eyes.

"What troubles you, my beloved friend?" I asked him.

"It is this castle, Orlando," he answered. "We shall sell many boles of cloth here. The Master of this place is rich beyond imagining, and he loves pomp and finery. But he is also cruel beyond imagining, and I am afraid for you, my dearest heart."

"Do not be afraid. I have you to look out for me, and no one will take much note of a lowly apprentice like myself."

"You speak sense. Still, I am afraid. There is some evil afoot in this place. I do not care for myself; you know I do not and that I care only for you. But I am afraid that my protection may not be enough here."

I smiled at that because my beloved friend was too modest. For had I not seen him slay a lion with one blow of his dagger and drive away a whole band of brigands with nothing but a whip and a club?

Sean leaned towards me and said in a low voice, looking about him although the chambers were quite empty, "I must warn you about something. Tomorrow we must pay our respects to the Desert Duke who rules this castle and all the lands round about. We must pay obeisance to the lord of this realm, and we must pay obeisance to his son, the Desert Prince. But listen, Orlando my heart, and listen carefully. Whatever you do tomorrow, you must not look into the Master's eyes. Do not meet his eyes! Will you promise me this?"

Because Sean was my guardian and friend and more-than-brother whom I trusted with my life and my love, I smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

But I did not say 'yes'. Note well that I did not say 'yes'. Note well and tremble but also remember that I was young and innocent. I did not know the perils that lurked within this fortress. I did not suspect that I would meet my doom and my destiny within these walls.

But know also this: I had a reason for not saying 'yes'. Because, much as I trusted and revered my beloved friend and guardian, there was one thing that I had never revealed to him.

It was my deepest secret and I kept it locked within my heart. And soon it was to save my life and slay my love.

~~~~~


	3. Fascicle the Second

**Fascicle the Second**

The hour of the first night cricket came and went, and then the hour of the first frog's call. For there were frogs in this dry desert citadel, and I marvelled at their song and at the soft splashing of fountains everywhere.

We spent the time before the evening meal visiting with tradesmen and shopkeepers, and strolling the paved lanes and alleys. And truly, I had never beheld such magnificence as I saw in the Desert Duke's citadel. Magnificent and fearful, both at once. The walls rose high and ten men could not have spanned their girth but each wall was topped by sharpened spikes. The windows were lofty and manifold but each window was barred with rods of iron. The gates were taller than ten men standing shoulder on shoulder but each gate was guarded by twenty-four armed sentinels. In truth, the fortress was a prison, and I was glad that we were only cloth merchants and only planning to spend a few nights in this place.

Yet splendid it surely was, and I trod the tiled courtyards in wonder and gazed in awe at the fountains in their lapislazuli basins and at the peacocks strutting under the lemon trees. I felt my lungs open out under the shaded canopies of those leaves and vines, and my thoughts refreshed by the sparkle of droplets on my face.

When the first oil lamps were lighted, we returned to our allotted chambers and readied ourselves for supper. A bath had been prepared for us, and I laughed with delight as I had not dipped myself in water for many a week. My beloved friend, my Sean ben Bean, gazed upon me and smiled, and he bid me undress. And as always, when we were alone, his eyes softened, his hands slipped like sand mice around my neck, and my heart stirred within my breast.

For know that Sean was dearer to me than love itself, and that nightly he made a shrine of my soul and of my body, and in this way he kept me sound and safe.

I undressed for my beautiful friend. My dusty cloak, my sand-riddled shoes, my sweat-soaked girdle, my tunic and vest and the undergarments next my skin, all fell in a heap at my feet. And then Sean took a step forwards and lifted his hands to the turban upon my head. He unwound the long strips of cotton, strip by strip, and as the last bands of cloth came away, my locks tumbled freely about my shoulders.

Sean ben Bean, my Sean, said nothing then, just took my hand and led me to the bath. The water was warm as baby's milk. Rose petals floated upon its surface. I slid into its silken embrace and closed my eyes as my beloved friend anointed my brow with balsa oil and bathed my skin with almond milk.

It was a service he always performed for me but when it was his turn to bathe, he liked me to sit back and wait. Under the latticed windows, giving onto an inner courtyard and hence not barred, there was a low divan, and it was upon this that I reclined. My hair was damp about my face and the scent of aloe vera rose from my lap. I liked to be clean and anointed for I knew that it pleased my beautiful friend, and I delighted in pleasing him as he delighted in pleasing me.

And know that it had always been thus but that as I grew up to be a man, our pleasures changed and my beloved Sean ben Bean taught me the ways of ecstasy of men.

After his bath, my beautiful friend came up to me where I lay upon the divan. He knelt down on the azure tiles. He wound one strand of my hair around his finger.

"Your eyes are like to coriander nuts," he whispered, "and your skin is as smooth as the hide on a newborn foal."

This is how my beautiful friend always spoke to me when we were alone. He always wove endearments about my head and wrote caresses upon my body. He stroked my curls and cupped my chin. He covered my skin with his own, and it was lovely in these lovely chambers, sweet at the sweet hour of the cricket's nighttime song of love, dear with the dear face of my beloved close to mine.

And as I lay naked and anointed on the soft cloth of the divan, he slid down along my chest and took my manhood into his warm mouth.

For this is also something my beloved friend liked to do, and he did it so well and so beautifully that the memory of it brings tears to my eyes even now.

He liked to stroke and soothe me. He liked to milk the weariness of travel from my flesh. His tongue inside his warm mouth was as the tender strip of loin cut from a goat's hind leg and soaked in oil, brine and musk for a day and a night. His tongue, soft and wet, stroked me to life and danced around on my most tender parts like... In truth, I could not imagine like what else.

For you must know that I had never lain with another soul, not man nor maid, only with my beloved friend, my Sean ben Bean. You will laugh but in these things I was as innocent as a wet-woolled lamb, and I knew no more than the gentle tongue of my beloved's mouth. Because this is all my Sean ever did. He washed my flesh with his dear, sweet mouth and he kissed me with his honey lips.

Nothing else.

For other pleasures, he visited the houses of the houri along our routes. He did not take me with him there. He did not even speak of them to me. He said that he wished only to protect me, to keep me safe and sound. He said that he wished me never to be hurt and to be spared the pain of need and betrayal.

And for a while, his wishes were fulfilled.

It never took me long to spend myself in his welcoming mouth. I was young and quick, and deep inside me a thin flame of fire burned. Yet always, before it had the chance to flare up, the milk of my pleasure doused its heat, and I sank soft and weightless into the cushions at my back.

My beloved friend brought his lips close to mine. Before he kissed me, he whispered, "You are my treasure. You are the opal of my heart." His tongue tasted of copper, honey and red wine, and of my own salty self. I clung to his shoulders. I was still trembling with delight. I twisted my friend's moist hair around my fingers until he cried out and chuckled and said, "Softly, softly, my angel." I bit his bearded chin. I tugged his earlobes. I wrapped my legs around his waist, yearning for more, yearning for something, I did not know for what.

~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> **Header and Cast**
> 
>  
> 
> Title: **The Desert Prince: A Fable  
> **  
>  Author: Lobelia;  
> Website: http://blithesea.net/lobelia/  
> Fandom: Lord of the Rings real person slash.  
> Category: AU.  
> Pairing: Multiple, but mainly Orlando Bloom/Karl Urban, Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean.  
> Rating: NC-17. Mature.  
> Warning: Character death. Character murder.  
> Non-consensual sex. Het. Slavery. Gender bending. WIP with irregular  
> posting schedule. Florid prose.  
> Feedback: Yes, please.  
> Disclaimers: This is a work of amateur fiction. I do not know  
> these people. I am not making money. The events described in this  
> story did not happen.  
> Summary: Orlando is ensnared by the evil Desert Prince and must  
> confront his own dark secrets. But maybe it is really the evil  
> Desert Prince who is ensnared by Orlando...?  
> Author's Notes: Eternal gratitude to Mary the Fan for spawning  
> the idea and allowing me to use the title. Thanks to Gloria and  
> Housemouse for encouragement, and to Lazulus and Jenn for returning  
> me to the curly.
> 
> Cover art: By the absolutely wonderful[ Becca Ming](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=_ming).
> 
> All original parts of this story: ©  
> Lobelia
> 
> ~~~
> 
>  **Cast: revised as I write  
> ** _Desert Prince:_ Karl Urban  
>  _Desert Duke, his father:_ John Noble  
>  _Sean ben Bean, cloth merchant:_ Sean Bean  
>  _Orlando, his ward and apprentice:_ Orlando Bloom  
>  _Wine merchant:_ John Rhys-Davies  
>  _Harem slaves:_ Dominic Monaghan, Elijah Wood  
>  _Harem houris and rebels:_ Miranda Otto, Liv Tyler, Cate  
>  Blanchett  
>  _Archivist and Grand Scribe:_ Billy Boyd  
>  _Keepers of the Citadel:_ Sala Baker, Lawrence Makoare  
>  _Grand Vizier:_ Jed Brophy  
>  _Chanter of the Rite:_ Marton Csokas  
>  _Old woman:_ Elizabeth Moody (Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.  
>  Don't think of it as Mary Sue. Think of it as cameo appearance.  
> *g*) [Pic of her](http://www.council-of-elrond.com/castdb/lsbaggins/lsbaggins1.jpg).  
>  _The black-footed assassin:_ Unnamed actress, playing Gondor  
>  warrior. [Pic of her](http://blithesea.net/lobelia/pix/womanofgondor.jpg). Thanks to [Daea Nereem](mailto:aurora_sunrise2003@yahoo.co.uk)/ [ nereem](http://nereem.livejournal.com/profile) for finding her, and to [Tay Mueller](mailto:powzie@gryphonsmith.com) / [ fileg](http://fileg.livejournal.com/profile) for supplying the picture.
> 
> Others: May appear in the course of this  
> WIP.
> 
> Art for The Desert Prince: _Cover_ by becca ming: .  
>  _Fascicle 10, illustration_ , by becca ming  
> Persian manuscript, _Firdausi Visits the Author to Inspire Him_ , c. 1480, © Metropolitan Museum, New York
> 
> Start of posting:4 August 2003.  
> Last updated: 19 April 2004.
> 
> Additional A03 note: I started uploading this to A03 in June 2013 (10 years after starting the series on [my LJ](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=lobelia321&keyword=Lobelia%27s%20fics&filter=all)...) 12 chapters exist electronically, the rest exist in my head (even the ending). One day I may finally finish this! Thank you, everyone who started reading way back then, for your amazing patience and lovely encouragement.
> 
>  


End file.
